


Unnamed Heir

by covacola



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Politics, Attempted Murder, F/M, Family Secrets, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Violence and Trauma, M/M, Multi, Murder, Poison, Secrets, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covacola/pseuds/covacola
Summary: Noctis is not Heir. Due to *looks at smudge handwriting on hands* *it's illegible* fanfictiony and self indulgent au reasons, Nyx has been chosen to succeed Regis. But Noct is alive and well-- thriving, actually-- not as Crowned Prince, but as Court Assassin. Oh and, uh, his existence and job are kind of a secret that a surprising amount of people actually already know about and more to find out in fic whoops.Tags and ratings to be updated as necessary.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Nyx Ulric, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Nyx Ulric, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 30
Kudos: 26





	1. Summary

**Author's Note:**

> This first "chapter" is the actual summary of what's to come. Just to throw it out there bc even the gd summary is long winded. Will probably be like my other long, poly & open ffxv fic whoops I'm a slut for multi shipping.

Noctis is not Prince of Lucis. King Regis was pressed but remained unmarried and could produce no legitimate heir. Instead, he searched to choose an adoptive heir. After saving his life, Nyx Ulric strove to become a worthy candidate and is taken in by the King years later. He still grows up in Galahd and runs a bar with Libertus, but as the King grows older, the Royal Court eventually calls upon him as chosen heir. 

Regis informs him he chose him that day, but wanted him to live a normal life, wanting his successor to be a good man before a good politician. Nyx begins training to succeed the throne. However, there is a secret looming over the Citadel that everyone but he seems to know. Despite being much younger, his retainers, Ignis and Gladio are welcoming and respectful. However, they, too, seem to see him in a distant light. 

After confronting Regis at an inopportune time, he finds out that Regis does indeed have a biological son. Noctis Lucis Caelum is a bastard born between Regis and a noble woman named Aulea who he's been in love with for years. Her family never gave them their blessing and she was being arranged to marry someone else before her untimely death. Noctis is illegitimate, and presumably unable to claim his birthright to the throne. 

It is also revealed, however, that until Nyx had been brought to the Citadel, Ignis and Gladio had cared for him in secret, which is why they were a bit distant with him. In their eyes, Noctis should succeed Regis. Initially, Nyx agrees. But after becoming closer to the Shadow Prince, he finds that Noctis has no desire to rule. While not always easy, Noctis is quite aware of how much he'd dislike being the legitimate heir, but is too embarrassed to admit this to his retainers. 

Being distanced from his royal lines, he's been able to live a normal, if oddly privileged life. He goes to a normal school, has normal friends, and while he can use magic, has never been asked to enlist in the Royal Guard or Kingsglaive. In his mind, he has the best of both worlds. And, Nyx soon discovers, it's not like he _isn't_ serving the Crown. Noctis admits he would be a terrible Prince, but every kingdom, he feels, needs an assassin. 

Nyx is amazed to find Noctis has been behind some of the biggest anti Crown conspiracy shut downs in living memory. Equally, if not perhaps a bit more refined in the Magic arts, he balances his life as informant, civilian, and quiet aristocrat well. Regis knows this and wishes to allow Noctis to continue his life in this way, so long as it makes him happy. Others in the Citadel, however, especially on the more traditional or anti immigrant sides, would want to expose Noctis. 

There is no Plague, no war. Nyx is soon introduced to the Lady Lunafreya, and presumed eventual betrothed. She, too, knows of Noctis but believes in Regis and Noctis's wishes. The two become close and she is even more assured in the King's decision. But there's another hitch. She reveals that not even Ignis and Gladio know of Noctis's quiet duties, assuming him to just be a shielded secret of the Crown, and nothing more. Nyx has already seen it for himself, they wouldn't approve. They are a bit more on the traditional side and would want Noctis to succeed Regis. 

More tension brews on the bastard Prince's side as well as his best friend, Prompto, begins to suspect his magical abilities and under the table activities. After an accidental run in with Gladio, who nearly catches Noctis in running off to do some errands for the Crown, the two decide to exchange information in the best interests for Noct. Ignis is brought into their circle and together they begin to unravel the truth of Noct's true position. 

Additional characters add more side drama. Iris, who has known about Noctis's true duties since catching him on accident in childhood. Libertus, weary of the Crown and its politics on Nyx's behalf. Ravus and his suspicions of Regis and his shadowy informant. Cor and his struggle to come to terms with this unconventional means of working around bureaucratic nonsense. As well as many other (honestly) shoehorned in characters such as every Glaive named in KG, Cid & Cindy, Aranea, Loqi, Jared & Talcott, and many more. If I can shoehorn Ardyn into this and make him happy without touching the Plague, I will. No promises tho. 

There will also, of course, be romantic development such as Noctis Has Secretly Been Gay For His Retainers And Best Friend This Whole Time, Probably Unrequited Libertus x Nyx Because I'm A Slut For Angst, and Soft Light LuNoct Because I Physically Cannot Exclusive Ship And They're Cute, Okay? And many more with background characters. 


	2. Prologue | Kiss

A shadow crept through the alleyway, still lit by the lifestyles of people living in a far too fittingly named city. The sky rumbled with thunder. If there was lightning, the mind numbingly tall buildings kept its glow like his secrets. He expertly avoided the spotlights of curtained windows, sneaking with form that might have been better set in some elegant dance. One could argue, of course, that this was a dance-- if a tedious and lethal one.

He scaled the drainpipe alongside one of the buildings just high enough to reach the fire escape. Not a click or tap or sound. Barely a whip of air might have given him away. He crouched, waiting. Bright blue eyes, chilly as the night, peered through the criss crossing metal at the gravel below. He carefully checked all his weapons. His daggers, his vials. His guns, his distress call, his bulletproof padding. Everything was in place, every probable possibility accounted for. Noctis Lucis Caelum was not sloppy.

A man scurried down the alleyway, pronounced limp adding to the crunch of gravel Noctis had been too light and careful to give away. He glanced around anxiously, taking the slightest double take at Noctis's hiding place. Cute, if amateur. He limped a few more steps, thinking he'd not been noticed, then sighed dramatically. He at least has the sense to not call out.

Noctis gripped the railing and dropped, producing the first sound he'd made in this alleyway this night. The man spun, then smiled broadly. "Shook em off?" It was half a need for reassurance, half a need for praise.

"Yes, you did good leading them off your trail." Noctis paced closer, each step deliberate and alluring with his lithe though muscled legs in skin tight black. The other man eyed him openly, then met his gaze. They burned for him. Noctis smirked, pulling up close, pressing their bodies flush, smiling against the other's lips. "You took a pretty bad shot in the leg, though."

The other man grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah... That-- er-- wasn't part of the plan."

Noct pulled away just slightly, chuckling, "I'd sure hope not." His hand trailed suggestively up the other's chest to caress his cheek, then you with messy blond hair. His voice was a silky whisper, "I don't think I'd like it very much if you planned to get hurt." Lips to his flushed ear, his tone turned even more indecent, husky. "I couldn't bear it-- not you."

Noctis looked deep into his eyes, his own slitted and suggestive. He needed only to lift his chin slightly and the other jumped eagerly into the kiss. Wet and sloppy, like teenagers with no idea what they were actually supposed to be doing with their tongues. But Noctis was no sloppy teenager, and quickly took control, all but shoving his tongue down the other's throat, much to their mutual enjoyment.

When Noct pulled away, he was smirking, breathless. "It'd have taken away the satisfaction of doing that."

For a brief moment, the other genuinely thought it a compliment. Then the vague feeling of wrongness settling in. Then the plunging fear. Noct popped some pill into his mouth, chewing it open and dry swallowing. Then he shook his head as the other man began to choke. "Only fitting," he said, sidestepping as the man lunged for him and missed, "you were good with poisons, Zeyas. But honestly," he eyed the man with nothing but disdain, "selling to someone you knew would slip some into the King's own cup? And you thought I wouldn't find out? Really." He knelt down, gripping the man's chin to force him to look at him, "just what do you take me for?" He smirked, "some easy fuck?" He snorted. "Gods it didn't even take a second date."

He dropped the man's head, then turned and strode away, lax, but still quiet as a shadow. He left the the former poison master, Zeyas, to die, choking on a formula he himself had created.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to showcase just how differently Noct could have turned out in this AU. He is still the dumb emo fishing kid we know, but I had so many feelings from the warping assassin mission that inspired me to consider this alternate route for him. I really wanted to explore this darker alternative possibility for Noctis. 
> 
> I really want to reiterate that this is still Noct. But this is also a Noct that is, for the moment, without Iggy and Gladio's close eye, without Regis's parenting to guide him as well, WITH the powers to warp and produce magic blades and all of it but WITHOUT the noble standard of Kings past. This is a Noctis who has been unsheltered from the realities of a darker world than the spotless marble and gold plating of the Citadel. This is a Noctis who does the dirty work for the Crown. This is a Noctis who is not only capable of murder, but capable of cruelty. Not in place of, but in duality of his softer, warmer side. I really shouldn't ramble like this in the tags but honestly guys I'm super excited I really want to showcase this kind of duality and drama with him ahhh I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Prologue | Selection

_ He stumbles, falls. Fear disfigures normally handsome, if boyish, features, ready and yet not as he instinctually turns to face death. But as the light of the sun blinds him, a ringing crashes through his ears. Metal against metal. His eyes widen, struggling to adjust, but in his head he knows only one thing: he has been saved.  _

Nyx's eyes fluttered open, a gasp filling his straining ears where clanging swords and armor had been moments before. Blinking back the dream, he looked around blearily at his room. As it faded, he recalled just enough to recognize the memory. It had happened a decade ago. As he brushed off the memory, he began to ready himself for another day. 

He and Libertus shared an apartment a few blocks away from the bar they had. It was their pride and joy, a dream they'd shared since childhood. As he exited his room, shuffling to the kitchenette, he found a note from Libertus on the counter. 

_ Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Couldn't get your ass outta bed, so I went ahead. Got food for you here so just throw something on and head over.  _

He smiled fondly at the note. Sarcastic as he might be, he knew Libertus was probably worried. As requested, he simply grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water then went back to freshen up for the day. Simple if heavy material pants, a simple tank top, and a light, loose button for the evening. It wouldn't be cold, but the wind could catch one off guard. 

As he went back out, he noticed something he hadn't before. A pill bottle sitting on the coffee table. He picked up, expecting to see his own name, but was surprised to see it wasn't his own anxiety medication, but Lib's. He squinted, then pocketed it. It wasn't that big a deal, but Libertus-- well they both-- had a complicated history with medication. 

He locked up the apartment, made his way down to the street, turned the corner, and kept a steady pace. He wasn't particularly inclined to socialize until after he'd gotten some food. He turned another corner, and only then realized he'd forgotten his keys to the back door. Swearing, he debated on turning around. It was only a five minute walk after all, but still. He texted Lib. 

_ Hey. I'm out back. Forgot my keys. _

The reply came almost immediately. 

_ Ha. Dumbass.  _

He rolled his eyes, but of course the door opened less than a minute later. 

He was tired, but it was hard to be disgruntled with that grin. Libertus gave him a hard pat on the shoulder, jostling him awake further. "Just on the bar top, everything's mostly unpacked. Shipments should come in later tonight." 

He yawned, grunting a thanks then asked groggily, "thought the restock was s'posed to come in this morning."

Libertus closed the door and locked it behind them, "yeah, it was. Delayed. Nothing serious, just sounds like some issues getting over here." Nyx eyed him. It was a pretty close knit community. It was rare they  _ didn't _ know the truck drivers and vendors personally, so Libertus's nonchalance was a bit odd. The other shrugged, rolling his eyes, "new guy. Blew a tire on the overpass." 

Nyx cringed, sighing in sympathy. "Of course, of  _ all _ places. The hardest part for a tow to get to."

Libertus waved it off, "didn't bother. Kid had a friend out here so they just had him wait outside Semper's and get a tire, pay him back when he got to em." 

Nyx raised an eyebrow, "this "friend" wouldn't happen to be her son's..."

"Boyfriend, yeah," they laughed. Small town indeed. 

And then came a knock, not at the front door, but the back. Confused, Libertus strode back to unlock it, see who it was. No one else was supposed to come in until just before opening. Nyx stood by, just in case. Small town it was, but that didn't erase the possibility of trouble. The door creaked open to find a familiar face, even if her expression was dark. "Hey," she nodded briskly at Libertus. 

"Crowe?" He sounded incredulous. He couldn't see Lib's face, but he knew he was scrutinizing her. Despite having grown out of the system and moved away all on her own, Libertus couldn't help but see her as another "adopted" little sibling. 

But Crowe didn't look at Libertus. She looked at him, an odd unreadable expression on her face, "Insomnians. Crownsguard." He and Libertus exchange confused, worried looks. "They're looking for you, Nyx." 

There was a still moment. But then he and Libertus moved. They didn't have to say anything. Distaste for the establishment Lib might have, but they King rather favored Nyx. That didn't mean they wouldn't be careful. Before heading out the door, Libertus put a stopping hand on his shoulder, then shuffled out back into the bar. "They're out front!" Crowe called. He grunted back an acknowledgement. 

She and Nyx had to snort when he came back, Nyx's plate of food in one hand, another bit of food for Crowe in the other. He rolled his eyes, "eat." They quickly scarfed it down, leaving the plate just inside on a shelf. They'd get to it in a bit. 

The crownsguard stood imperious in their leather and fine metalwork. But overall, they didn't seem antagonist, which made Nyx relax a bit. Upon seeing him, one of the guards turned to him, a towering figure looming over even his and Libertus's beyond average height. "Nyx Ulric," he said in a booming, commanding voice. The guard had already attracted a bit of attention, but with his pause even more people were poking their heads out to see the commotion. 

Perhaps it was the rather unceremoniousness of it. Perhaps it was the un-politician-likeness of the man speaking. Whatever it was, his words rang out, feeling unreal. "King Regis Lucis Caelum has selected you as his Heir." 


	4. Noctis | Mornings

A soft rapping at his door roused Noctis from his light sleep. Nap. It was basically just a nap. He groaned, turning over, and Ignis took that as consent to come in. "Morning, Noct," he said, already sounding resigned. Noctis buried his head further under the covers. Ignis sighed, but Noct detected the slightest exasperated smile. 

"M'don't wanna," he murmured. 

"I know," Ignis replied soothingly, he rubbed Noct's back as he moved past, which was a much better wake up call than pulling back the curtains. Noctis groaned, rolling back over, but stopped, seeing Ignis suddenly standing stock still. "What is it, Iggy?" He asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. 

Ignis turned, eyeing the room wearily. He looked troubled. "Iggy?" Noct repeated, still a bit too sleepy to be fully alarmed.

"The window latch was unlocked." His tone was grave. 

Noct's eyes widened, but he quickly responded, "sorry-- sorry, my bad!" Ignis looked at him quizzically. "I wanted some fresh air so I opened the window for a little while," he lied easily. "I thought I'd locked it again, sorry." 

Ignis nodded slowly. Then stepped forward, brushing a hand through Noct's bedhead. "Please do try to remember, I'm sure you were tired," he began. 

Noct lifted up his hands in a mildly comical gesture of surrender, trying to soothe Ignis. "Safety, I know, I know." 

The clouds lifted and Ignis smiled. He turned, pulling his hand away to lock the window, not seeing the clouds descend over his charge. He was now especially aware of how chilly the room had gotten, now without Iggy's warm touch. But as soon as the Adviser turned back, the expression was gone. 

"Come now, breakfast is ready." Ignis offered a hand he knew Noct didn't need, but Noctis took it and didn't let go, enjoying the lame excuse to hold hands. 

He muttered some half-hearted thanks, but even in the privacy of their apartment, he felt his pulse quicken, like he knew he was doing something wrong. Which, in a way, he was. 

And not just the secret relationship he was in with his retainers and best friend. 

At least he'd  _ closed _ the damn window. Gods, he was getting cocky, sloppy. He had to be more careful. 

Breakfast went on without a hitch, except for a surprise knock at the door.

It'd been rather unfortunate, really. He'd almost gotten Iggy to feed him some eggs when the knock came. They sprang apart instantly, Noct almost overbalancing in his chair and falling over. He didn't, and that was a blessing as the door unlocked and opened. Falling backwards in front of Gladio first thing in the morning was  _ not _ how he'd like to start the day. 

"Mornin'," Gladio greeted. 

"Ah, good morning Gladio," Ignis responded dutifully. It hurt. The door was open for maybe three whole seconds, and yet they wouldn't slip up even that much. It made him internally pout all the more at his own slip up today. 

Noct waited for the latch to click  _ and  _ for Gladio to lock the door behind him before quipping, "wow. Up already? No wonder you turn into a pumpkin four whole hours before the ball's over." 

Gladio snorted, pacing over and ruffling his hair, "why you--" 

"Hey-- hands off, Bigfoot--"

"What? Gonna need another _ hour _ to restyle your bedhead, princess?" 

"Forgive me--" Ignis cut across them, "-- I hadn't gotten a chance to inform you--" he paused, staring back at two flat stares. 

"Iggy," Gladio began, "how many times we gotta tell you--" 

Noct rolled his eyes, "save the formalities for people who care." 

Gladio tried to give the Prince a disapproving look, but he couldn't keep a straight face with his bratty petulance. "We  _ care _ about formalities--"

"Just not behind closed doors," Noct insisted, standing up, and smoothly shoving a bit of toast into the big guy's mouth then turning back to Iggy as Gladio tried not to choke. "So what were you saying, Iggy?" He asked sweetly and Gladio coughed behind him. 

Ignis couldn't help but laugh a little, redoubling at Noct's all too proud of himself look. 

"He was saying," Gladio said, hooking an arm around Noct's shoulders, "that  _ I'm _ doing you the favor of taking you to school today." 

Noctis pretended to groan in annoyance, " _ great _ , what misfortune have the Gods bestowed us for that one?" 

"Ha," Gladio replied dryly. "Unlike you, Ignis takes his duties seriously." Ignis eyed him harshly, so Gladio let off, with a to the point, "he got dragged into a meeting this morning." 

Noct winced. "Yikes," he turned to Ignis, "my condolences." 

Ignis sighed, rolling his eyes as Gladio added, "I know, poor thing." 

"When you two are done," Ignis said, suppressing a smile, "you should be off." 

"Huh?" Noct asked. 

Gladio snorted. "You got any idea what time it is?" 

Noct looked up at him briefly, then patted his pockets and-- damn-- he'd left his phone in the bedroom. 

"You've got about 45 minutes to get to class," Ignis informed him. 

" _ With _ morning traffic," Gladio added. 

Noctis swore and dashed back into the bedroom to quickly change and freshen up, Ignis and Gladio chuckling and snorting, respectively, behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come back to Normal Noctis being a dork as usual. I'd been having trouble coming back to this fic as I've been a bit preoccupied with another fandom, but I'm back and ready to gush about my fathomless love for our sleepy fishing loving prince.


	5. Nyx | Heir

Nyx stood stiffly at attention. He'd had some militia training as he had apparently notable ability with magic, but he could already tell that the hours his drill instructor had spent agonizing over form had been nothing compared to the years of regal training these guards had. 

It was odd. One day he'd been living a comfortable, if perhaps a bit provincial life of a regular civilian. And now? Now he was flanked by not two, not four, but  _ six _ of the Crownsguard. He didn't want to appear anxious or unsure, but the grandeur was absolutely  _ staggering _ . In truth, he was a relatively rural man, and the large, open, vaulted rooms were nothing if not intimidating. 

"Relax, kid," one of his guards said, apparently noticing his discomfort. The man didn't turn back, didn't break rank. His tall frame was imposing, but Nyx hadn't once shied away. From the smallest hint of a smile he caught, he figured he'd earned some points in this man's book. Or at least he hoped that's what it meant. 

As if on cue, the massive door in front of them was opened. The group had stood stiffly in this luxurious waiting chamber for about ten minutes. A tall man, broad shouldered, but otherwise rather nimbly built, stepped in, and Nyx felt his gut twist as he realized this one man carried more weight, more  _ royal authority _ , than he was sure he ever would. The man adjusted his glasses, closing the door behind him. "Early, as always, Ignis," the tall guard said in what seemed to be a far too relaxed tone for the situation. 

The man, Ignis, paused a moment. He wasn't harsh, but his decorum didn't falter with his familiarity as he replied, "I do try, Drautos." He turned and faced Nyx fully, giving him a thorough once over. "You must be Nyx Ulric," he said. It wasn't a question, and the gravity of his tone made Nyx want to show some sign of respect. 

He only nodded, acknowledging, polite, and entirely unsure of what else he was supposed to do, and not entirely trusting himself to not sound stupid if he spoke. Ignis didn't smile. He turned his head, nodding to Drautos. "I believe we can take things from here," his tone was sort of casual, after a fashion, he supposed, but very much to business, "I don't believe we'll need such an extensive guard. The King will have his own retinue. Your presence will be required, but I doubt there's any need to hold the entirety of Glaive up." 

Drautos snorted, "we aren't  _ that _ short staffed," he replied easily. Nyx belated realized Ignis had cracked some sort of joke, but the realization that these weren't just  _ any _ crownsguard struck him even further dumb. The Kingsglaive was a faction separate from the Crownsguard, the latter formed of normal civilian and occasionally Lucian Noble recruits. The Glaive, though... They were separated primarily by their ability to use Lucian magic, every one of them. A good number were comprised of the lower class, especially immigrants vying for better lifestyles in Lucis. But many were also aristocrats, both foreign and native. It was even fairly common for foreign countries to send their magically abled men and women to train with, and in exchange gain favor with the Lucian Crown. As it had been in this nobility for the longest, Lucian Court Magicians were notoriously skilled. Being part of the Kingsglaive was a great honor. And to have them being his personal escort, especially  _ six _ of them, a number of esteem-- 

Drautos waved a hand casually to the guards--  _ Glaives _ . "You're dismissed," he turned toward a younger, fair haired man, "'cept you, Luche. You and I will escort the Chosen Heir and his Advisor." The men nodded curtly, and the man Nyx presumed was Luche stepped up, still behind him and to the side, but closer. Ignis nodded, turning and setting off back through the door he'd come from. Numbly, Nyx followed. 

_ Advisor?  _ Nyx wondered. He knew the King had advisors, but this seemed like an official title. As far as he knew, the only one who'd currently fit that bill would be Clarus Amicitia, Regis's Shield. He glanced sidelong at Ignis. He was proper, upright, and had a casual grace Nyx could only hope he could learn to imitate. Funny. He was anxious to meet the King after so much time, but even still he was more thrown by his Advisor and the Kingsglaive than he was nervous. He hoped that wasn't inadvertently insulting. 

* * *

The Throne Room was vast and imposing. Dark, heavily contrasted, dramatic with the blacks and whites and gold. Regis sat, proud and imposing on the throne, a vision of royalty, protection and pride. Nyx  _ was _ intimidated, but... He felt he knew King Regis personally, after that day. He swelled with pride being in this room, being graced with an audience from his Highness. This man was someone Nyx would proudly follow. 

The King's expression was neutral, his tone regal and weighty as he spoke. "Ignis, please inform the council of Nyx Ulric’s arrival,” he paused just slightly, “I know how... _ anxious _ they are to meet him.” Nyx thought he sensed something sour in the King’s tone, and his heart dropped into his stomach. He could only imagine what kind of messy politics he was walking into, and was only now, belatedly, wondering what exactly this all meant for him. “Please have them understand that we shall be some time yet. There are some matters which I wish to discuss with him.” 

Ignis bowed, “of course, Your Majesty.” He then rose smartly, leaving the hall. 

The King waved a casual hand, “if you could give us a moment, Drautos.” The tall man and the other Glaive bowed like Ignis had, and Nyx watched them, praying he wouldn’t screw up too badly should he need to imitate it. 

The room seemed even more haunting, now that it was just him, the King, and the King's Shield. He tried not to flush, or grow faint, from the sudden wave of emotion that hit him when he realized  _ oh Six, this is really happening. _

Regis, for his part, scrutinized him, not giving anything away of himself. After a countless number of heartbeats, he leaned back, smiling just slightly. "You've truly grown into quite the young man, Nyx." 

Still stunned, he tried not to stammer as he replied, "thank you, your Majesty."

The King eyed him over, as if assessing him. Him or something else. After a few measured heartbeats, he spoke. "I have chosen you as my heir," he began, “of that much I’m sure you’ve been informed.” Nyx felt his throat begin to close up. It wasn’t that he hadn’t ever thought about it-- hell, just about  _ anyone  _ who’d met the King had idly wondered if they would one day be chosen. But, of all of them,  _ he’d _ won out. If you could call it that. “No need to be so anxious, Nyx.” 

He looked up, eyes refocusing after his momentary panic, and was struck by an overwhelming sense of peace at the warm smile the King gave him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shaky and nothing short of genuine. “Of course, er,--” should he repeat the title again? Was that redundant? Six above but what was he  _ doing?  _ He didn’t know a damn thing about formalities or the finer points of presentation or-- 

“Calm, now,” Regis interjected into Nyx’s runaway worrying. “I don’t expect you to have established expertise in all of this.” Nyx could only gulp, nodding, the hyperawareness of his ineptitude still threatening to overwhelm him. “I am not looking for a politician to be my heir, Nyx Ulric.” 

Nyx hesitated, taking a second to think through his words before speaking. “Then, if I might ask, your Majesty, what  _ are _ you looking for?” 

Regis’s lip quirked just a little, barely visible, especially from this distance. “ _ Were, _ ” he corrected, and Nyx’s felt a sudden flush, but did his best supress the reaction as the King continued. “I have always held the belief that I wanted my heir to be a good _ man _ before being a good  _ politician _ .” 

Nyx felt his eyes widen a bit, and for a moment he was once again gripped by the feelings that had consumed him after that day so many years ago. The day the King of Lucis had saved his life. The weeks and months after as he fixated on that figure of honor and royalty, learning everything he could of the distant King. Those feelings of loyalty, of awe and of  _ pride _ . Of learning by-- probably a bit naive-- example of this man he’d come to idolize. Everything he’d done, the decisions he’d made, the paths he’d chosen, had all been aligned with this image of integrity, morality. 

He only nodded again numbly as the King’s words settled over him. Without meaning to, he straightened his posture, stood just a bit taller. Without realizing it, a determination solidified in his chest. A determination to continue to learn from this man, his King. And to put forth his best efforts in being his  _ heir _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if u cant tell i bit off way more than i can chew so low key this may focus more on noct bc honestly??????????? that's all i was thinking of oof. I'll probably end up rewriting this chapter/be slower with Nyx chapters in the future as his set up is important but also i'm low key here for some shadow stabby stabby noctis y'all i ain't even gonna lie so???????? hope y'all will bear with me?????????? <3


	6. Noctis | Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter has been edited bc I mixed up which story I was writing oops. originally posted july 2nd, 2020.

Prom’s snort of a laugh roused him, and it was only then that Noct realized that, _damn,_ he’d fallen asleep in class. _Again._ “G’morning sleeping beauty,” Prom feigned a coo then chuckled, poking the top of his head. Then the blonde pulled back, “ow, I forget your hair’s so pointy!” 

Noct groaned and looked up, rubbing his eyes as he shot back, “you’re one to talk, chocobo head.” He smiled at Prom’s noise of indigence. 

“Shut it, you’ve never even _seen_ an actual chocobo,” he pouted, running a hand through his hair, now clearly a bit self conscious. 

Cheek resting lazily against one fist, Noct took Prompto’s anxious hand, only briefly glancing to make sure the classroom was now empty. “Neither have you,” he pulled the other’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently, “and you look fine.” 

Prom went a deep shade of red, pulling his hand back as though he’d been burned, glancing around frantically. 

Noct smiled, daining to lean up and catch Prompto by the lips when he turned back. As he’d hoped, Prom melted. 

* * *

Despite their earlier caution, they held hands openly as they walked through campus halls. It wasn’t any secret they were dating, and why would it be? Noctis _Luo_ was just another random Lucian kid. Prompto knew who he was, but he was, obviously, a special case. 

But I mean, really, who _wanted_ to be caught making out in a classroom in high school? Nevermind everyone basically _knew_ that’s what was happening. The social laws of propriety were often strange, nonsensical, and rife with idiotic intricacies like that. 

As far as anyone knew, the King had no biological heir. And so long as everyone in the loop-- Iggy, Gladio, Iris, Clarus, and a few select Kingsglaive and Counsel members-- could keep their traps shut, Noct could continue on living the life he wanted. The life of a normal (secret) high school student (informant, sometimes assassin), who did nothing more out of the ordinary (nothing more risky) than endure the special hell that was finishing school and working a mind numbing, degrading entry level job. (And living this double life.) 

On that note, they got to the classroom they’d been navigating to. After a ton of encouragement, Prompto had finally broken and decided to join their school’s photography club. Sometimes Noct hung out at the club with him, but most days they just met up after Noct’s shifts at Noct’s apartment. With a quick kiss “when no one was looking,” Noct dipped out. 

And immediately made his way to one of the side entrances to the school grounds. He walked casually, but kept a decent pace, leaving campus behind, and making his way to a specific convenience store just a block and a turn away. He went in, catching the eye of one of the workers, and milling around, pretending to consider the various energy drinks. The worker came over, presumably to restock, and Noct turned, front to the security camera, but turned to be blind to the one on the opposite end of the small store, and smiled sheepishly as he felt the worker slip something into his back pocket. The worker also had the cheek to take advantage of the motion, giving him an indulgent groping. 

He returned her wink with a tight smile, then meandered through some of the snacks, then left without purchasing anything. He spared her a glance as the door swung behind him, and she at least wasn’t stupid enough to be staring after him. She wasn’t half bad. At the song and dance, or in her looks, he admitted as he sauntered back to campus. He walked part way around the other side as to not walk back past that classroom or its line of sight from the windows. 

Once he was comfortably back on campus, he reached for his phone. Thankfully, Gladio hadn’t gotten worried enough to text him or anything yet. Picking his pace up to a jog, he made his way to the main entrance, spotting Gladio’s car easily, and knocking on the window when he came up. He heard the door unlock, then hopped in, tossing his school bag into the footwell and tucking his legs up. “Sorry, got, er--” he feigned an embarrassed look, “caught up talking to Prom.” 

Gladio laughed. “ _Sure,_ we’ll call it that,” he teased. Noct even produced a slight flush as he playfully punched Gladio in the arm. To his only mild surprise, Gladio used the motion to grab his wrist, their eyes locking. There was an intensity to him that Noct never really got over, no matter how many times he saw it. He felt a sly, bratty sort of smirk quirk his lip in response. But it dropped just as quickly. Gladio wasn’t smiling. _Why wasn’t he smiling?_ _What--_ and just like that, Gladio’s own little smirk appeared. 

Noct relaxed, twisting and freeing his arm, pulling on his seatbelt, then letting the arm fall into his lap, his own smile returning. 

“It’s damn unfair,” Gladio began, almost nonchalantly, as he checked his mirrors before pulling back out onto the road, “that you two get to fool around all day around campus. Iggy’s jealous, I can tell you.” Which was basically code for, “Iggy’s had a long day and is definitely gonna screw you _before_ dinner, but _I’m_ gonna have my way with you first.”

Noct didn’t have to fake the warmth in his cheeks this time. Crude, maybe, but he _loved_ it when Gladio teased him. Usually, anyway. Sometimes he was an ass, but that’s just how they were. “Whatever, you can’t complain,” he shot back, side eyeing him, smirk deepening, “you guys get the fun of sneaking kisses in the Citadel.” Gladio snorted, but his shit eating grin spoke _volumes_ , so he decided to add, “don’t lie, you guys have _totally_ shagged in an empty conference room once or twice.” The way Gladio’s lips twisted told him he was guilty as charged. Noct laughed, “wait! Really?? Holy shit, how hard was it to convince Iggy?” 

Gladio’s own face warmed as he rolled his eyes, “ _actually,_ _he_ was the one who dragged _me_ into the storage room, if you must know.” 

Noct’s eyes widened. “Hooooooooly shit. Details, details!” He encouraged. 

“Oh come on, you know Iggy,” Gladio said, not at all abashed, “had the whole thing planned out for _days_.” 

Noct laughed, “was it his idea, or _yours?”_ He pried. 

“Mine,” Gladio admitted, “I’d had a few thoughts and Iggy figured if he didn’t _indulge me,_ I’d do something stupid and we’d get caught.” 

“Figures,” Noct snorted. 

* * *

Neither Noct nor Prom said anything about it, but Gladio hadn't been kidding. Ignis had definitely needed a recharge, which they were of course only happy to give. But with dinner since cleaned up, the others settling back into this little domestic respite they'd been blessed with, Noct had finally had a moment to slip back into their room, fish something out of the pocket of his discarded pants, and slip into the bathroom, presumably, to shower. 

A little slip of paper. Just a time. No date, no place, nothing else. But he knew where it was. This was old hat by now, but the zero before the 24hour number did pose some difficulty. As much as he loved falling asleep cuddled close to his boyfriends pretty much every night, it made it difficult to have an overnight schedule. He sighed, hopping into the shower. He'd figure it out.

* * *

"So," he said, voice a low purr, "you got something for me?" Noct slipped from the shadows into view of the contact he'd been designated to meet. He graced the man with an exaggerated once over-- which, okay, _maybe_ the guy deserved. Tall, probably around Iggy or Gladio's height. Well muscled, but not broad, just enough to not make him seem lanky. Violet eyes and a wicked smile that gave him a rush. He indulged, mostly himself, with a sly smile of his own. "You got a name, messenger boy?" 

"Tac," he replied. His voice was deeper than Noct had expected. Smooth, too. He spoke with the same refined vowels Iggy did. "No need to ask who you are." He had the gall to close the distance. And the stupidity to try to lay a hand on him. 

Noct caught it just inches from his chin, smile deepening. "Maybe I wanna hear you say it." 

The man, Tac, smiled back. "I'd been wanting to come meet you myself," he nodded, "Celo." 

His tone had been sure, not playful. Noct of course had several aliases he used in the underground. But they all led back to this one Celo Mitto. Poor guy thought he had him. Noct-- or rather, _Celo--_ let his face tighten for the briefest moment. As if Tac had caught him, nevermind that Tac himself was the one unwittingly tangling himself further in the spider web. 

Tac chuckled, "and I do have a little something for you," and let him feel it too. Celo allowed himself to be pulled close, teased through the man's trousers. Just a taste, so to speak. Just in case he wanted a little more from this arrangement. Celo had a flirtatious streak, and while many claimed, it was just as likely gossip that no one actually had gotten in his pants yet. 

Celo played along, feeling up his thigh and across to a pocket. As Tac didn't stop him, he assumed the small vile he felt was the real object of their little meeting. Celo swiped it, the slipped out of Tac's grasp, inspecting the vile. "I take it as the big man himself," he held a moment, making sure he knew there was no mistake in his double meaning, "came all this way to meet me in person, this must be something _good."_

A dark, thick liquid. He blinked. Poison? But that didn't seem right. Tac cut off his thoughts, "it's called Vanilla." And it looked like it could be an extract, too. He shot Tac a glance and raised an eyebrow. "Most commonly used to lace darts. Nasty stuff. Once it gets in your bloodstream, it acts like venom." His face hardened, "but it kills the nerves completely. No recovering. Goes til it hits something vital, and that's that." 

Celo nodded. He'd heard of the stuff. "I thought we were tracking imports from Niflheim," he noted. Then his eyes darkened. "But this stuff is local."

Tac nodded. "Looks like this group was exporting. And not back to the Nif's either." 

Well that got his attention. "I'm assuming you wouldn't have bothered if you didn't already have a lead," he replied. 

"Naturally, but that's unfortunately all," Tac grimaced. "It's going to Altissia, but once it lands, it's--" 

"--harder to track," Celo finished. He spun, pocketing the sample for later use. "Altissia's got a pretty good system in place, and pretty much anyone who's anyone is in on it. Keep working on that, but you'd probably just need someone on the inside." He didn't mention, didn't need to mention, that he'd be working on this as well. In his own way. A politician with good connections to Lucis was already in that circle. Not that Tac needed to know that he had that line already established.

"My question," Celo began to pace, "is why they'd need an outside substance. Altissia is known for their _nasty_ poisons." 

"Unless," Tac looked thoughtful, "they want it to look like an outside job..." 

Celo nodded as if considering, but honestly, he'd already come to that conclusion. Just leading Tac in the right direction. 

He nodded again, more firmly, then turned began walking away, "I take it, Taceo--" the man's full name. He knew by the slightest scuff of boots on pavement that the man had stiffened, "that you'll keep working your charm." He glanced over his shoulder, sly smile back in place. "You've done so well so far," he drawled, implying that he may or may not receive a bonus for getting this done quickly-- and he would. If Tac could somehow get this done faster than Noctis himself could, he'd definitely been getting a raise. And an investigation into just how he did it, for Noct's own improvement purposes of course.

He slipped away, back into the shadows, just another phantom in the night.

* * *

The recoil, minor as it was, threw his aim off. Okay, so he wasn’t any sort of sharpshooter. The bullet didn’t hit it’s mark, but, hey, it _landed_. In the man’s shoulder instead of his chest, but, whatever. It still sent him toppling. Off a rooftop. Smirking, Noct reholstered the gun, summoning a blade in a flash. He threw it over the edge, summoning its twin with his other hand. He warped, following it. He grabbed it, a dagger, then threw the other, readjusting his course. Within the span of a second, he’d latched onto the struggling man, one gloved hand covering his scream, the other driving the first dagger roughly horizontal through the man’s neck. He warped silently to a spotted perch, catching the dying man and removing the knife from his throat. Using the clean one, he continued a series of dropping the man and catching him again, getting them to the ground. 

Upon closer inspection, it’d be clear this wasn’t just a fatal robbery, but he knew if he swiped the guy’s wallet, the guard wouldn’t bother to question it further. This was just another bottom feeder to them. Despite the implications, he was glad for the likely, pretty much guaranteed oversight. 

Scout down, he dematerialized the bloody dagger, then used the other to warp back to his watch point. He resummoned it almost immediately, coming back clean. Useful, that. 

With the scout out of the way, he wasted no time, dropping down directly into the target group. A couple cries from the rookies, but most of these were seasoned crooks. Shoot first, swear up a storm later, in the hideout, where some keen eared civilian wouldn’t hear you. Three of them marked him. He swiped the legs out from under one them, the other two shots passing through empty air. A quick slice took care of the one on the ground. One of the two amateurs grabbed him. He let himself get picked up, twisting to yank their arm playfully as he landed on his feet, the other not so graceful. He got a gash across the face for his clumsiness. 

The other dagger came up to clip the arm of one of the other gunsmen, who’d advanced. He dropped his gun and Noct decided it wasn’t worth the motion to swipe it away. The third gunman trained in on him again, and he dodged the bullet as he grabbed the one who’d shot at him, spinning and kicking him toward the one that had fired. The last, the other who’d cried out, had gotten the sense to pull their gun as well. Noct used the excuse to drop and grab the dropped gun. He brought it up, shooting it’s original owner mid turn as he swung back toward him. He didn’t miss his mark this time. He dropped. 

The one with the fresh cut across his face had finally gotten his bearings, but Noct didn’t bother to step aside. His shot missed by a far margin. He and the other rookie charged him, the final of the original three gunman taking the opportunity to grab some cover. Noct jumped, kicking off the one with the bloodied face, then latching his thighs around the neck of the other one. In a rough motion, the knocked him off balance, grabbed his head, and twisted, snapping his neck. His hands hit the ground and he pushed, angling his feet toward the alley wall, bounding off, and over the gunman’s cover. He had to twist out of the way to avoid bullets, but he landed behind him, and before he could bring his gun around, Noct had slit his throat. 

Not wanting to drag this out any longer, and not wanting blood on his clothes, he warped, catching the last man around the neck with his arm, knocking him over completely, then drove both daggers into his chest. That done, all without a sound from him, he went back and checked his work, made sure to watch them stop breathing, check their pulses. He wouldn’t be sloppy. 

Then, he let out a sigh. All this for a fucking burner phone. He removed the item in question from, surprisingly, the first corpse. He opened it, just to make sure it really was what he was looking for, then warped back up to the rooftops, cool and unphased. He didn’t _like_ killing, but it wouldn’t make him hesitate. Hesitation got you killed. And, he’d found, he didn’t stay awake as many nights if he didn’t stop to look at each of his victim’s faces. He didn’t think much on what that said about him. Not right then, anyway. 

He dropped down into another alley-- there were millions of them in Insomnia. He’d made sure he was really clean as he’d made his way over rooftops. He pulled something else from his pocket, inhaled, the quick high hitting him, and held the pull for a moment, only letting go as he turned back out onto a more regular side street, a small cloud of vapor trailing him downwind. He tried to not get it on his clothes as he made his way back to the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Luo_ can be translated as "free", "absolve," and "release", among other things ofc. Also, back to Dark Noctis.
> 
>  _Taceo_ can be translated as "to be silent" or "to be left unmentioned" and will be a minor recurring character.


	7. Nyx | Crownsguard

Nyx was, admittedly, a lot of somewhat distasteful things. He was a backwater bumpkin, a foreigner set to inherit a throne. He was sometimes an asshole, far too blunt and to the point at times. He was not, however, stupid.

It'd been a couple weeks now, days spent being tutored by Ignis, and he was now finally starting formal sparring training with his Shield, Gladiolus. It'd been, what, half an hour? And he now knew for sure all the suspicions he held for Ignis were absolutely true, and entirely unshielded in his Shield. They did  _ not _ like him.

Ignis had been polite, if distant. Perhaps a bit cold, but not antagonizingly so. Gladiolus, on the other hand? He was far more openly stiff, almost hostile. Whatever he'd been hoping out of a Chosen Heir, it was  _ not _ some blunt asshole, backwater bumpkin foreigner. Galahad was technically a part Lucis, but that was more a formality more than anything nowadays. Still, Galahadans were second rate citizens at best. People had expected the Chosen Heir to be from a distinguished, probably Insomnian family. But here he was, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to prove himself. To the King, to this Shield, the Adviser, to the people and counsel, and to himself.

He picked up everything Gladio had to offer that first session quickly. He'd expected the reluctant Shield to be bitter or off put. Thankfully, he seemed reluctantly impressed. He nodded, wiping sweat off his forehead, and then bowed in respect at the end of the session. He then just stood there.

Nyx blinked a moment, confused. "Is... There something else?"

"At your leave," he hesitated, "your highness." He didn't grit the words out, but he obviously was forcing the title out.

Nyx felt himself flush just slightly. "You're dismissed," he said haltingly. The words felt so alien to him. 

The Shield nodded, then left. Nyx waited for the sound of the click of the door latch, then sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

A moment later, the door opened again. His Adviser, or rather, his  _ babysitter _ had arrived to take him back to his rooms. He tried not to let his frustrations show as they made their way through the looming halls of the citadel. 

Nyx found himself thinking of home. It wasn't uncommon, but he usually tried to avoid it. Homesickness wouldn't help him here. But damn if he didn't miss it. He hesitated, made a motion, but stopped himself. Once he was back in his quarters, he'd text Libertus. The two had called almost every night, which helped. Many nights, he closed his eyes as they chatted, but he couldn't pretend he was falling asleep on the couch of their apartment, couldn't pretend he smelled the remnants of whatever meal they'd put together, or of the lingering smells from their work. He missed the food most, the way the spices lingered with the bitter taste of the cheap beer they would drink together. 

"Highness," Ignis began. Brisk, but if he read into it, he thought he felt a stiffness to the title.

"Yes?" He still wasn't sure if he was supposed to use his name or not. Gods this all would take so much getting used too..

Ignis, however, didn't miss a beat. "We're making preparations, and I thought it prudent to inform you as soon as possible," Nyx resisted the urge to squirm. What now? "We've received a new application for the Glaive. He claims to be a friend of yours, and we'd like to verify your," he paused, "relationship." 

What the hell was he talking about? And why did that sound so shady? "Yes," he tried to not stammer, "and... What is the name of the applicant?" 

"One Libertus Ostium, your highness."

Nyx felt his stomach lurch. He barely contained himself as he turned, just slightly. "Wha-- I--" he straightened, "yes. Yes Libertus and I are good friends." He paused, and he had to ask, "he's really applying for the Glaive?"

"Yes," Ignis replied, still a bit weary. "And there was another person of note," another pause, "one Crowe Altius." 

Nyx couldn't help the grin that came. But he was still confused. Those two spat at any roving deployments that happened out their way, and had an even lower reputation of the jumped up rich folk who spent years training for the opportunity to work in Insomnia. And they'd  _ volunteered  _ for the Glaive?

"I don't mean to pry, your highness," Nyx itched to tell him to drop it, but he thought he was trying to get Nyx used to titles and whatnot, so he bit his tongue, "but I would... Just like to understand..." He so wanted Ignis to just spit it out already. "As Heir, you will be expected to court for political purposes. I believe talks are finishing regarding a potential meeting between you and Lady Lunafreya of Tenebrae," Nyx blinked, and then he got it, feeling himself flush. "I simply ask if there will be any... Complications--"

"No complications, no," Nyx almost choked. "It's not like that, Ignis. We really are all just good friends-- Six, Crowe is like a little sister to me." 

Ignis relaxed visibly, "I see. Forgive me, your highness, I simply--"

"I understand," Nyx interjected, but he hesitated. Libertus and Crowe weren't the only ones who were able to use magic back home. Maybe... "Were... Those the only applicants?" Ignis raised an eyebrow and, Six, he might as well stick to the reputation and be blunt. "My sister," he elaborated, "also showed signs of being able to use magic as well." 

Ignis lifted his head in understanding, but then shook it. "No, apologies, but I have gotten no such word. I can send a request--"

"That's quite alright," Nyx cut in again, trying to not take petty pleasure from the annoyed way Ignis's lip quirked. He hesitated again. "Would it... Be possible to see them?" He withdrew as soon as he asked, "Forgive me, that's likely a security issue--"

"Not all all," Ignis cut him off this time, and Nyx felt himself smile just a bit. Somehow, it felt like a small victory that he could get under this man's skin like that. "They have a few more papers to sign, screenings to go through, but yes your highness, the King felt it best you not be kept from those closest to you." 

Nyx nodded, smiling broader. Bastards. They hadn't told him anything about this. He was worried for Selena, but he'd take anything at this point. 

"Speaking of them, though," Ignis continued, and Nyx gave him his full attention, "they have been assigned special training, I do warn you they'll likely be a bit outcasted from the other Glaives."

Despite the look on his face Ignis didn't answer the silent question. So, he asked, "special training?" 

Ignis nodded, face surprisingly passive as he said, "to see if they could potentially make proper crownsguard, the first officially for you personally." 

Nyx wasn't sure if his heart leapt or dropped, but it was something. "Was this the King's decision as well?" 

"Yes, but not his alone," Ignis replied carefully. "I sat through that meeting as well, and was supportive of the suggestion." 

Well that took him by surprise. "Really?" He couldn't stop himself from asking. 

Ignis actually shrugged. "Regis's immediate crownsguard was supplemented by his closest friends and confidants. I had always anticipated his Heir's circle to be much the same." 

There was definitely something to that, Nyx thought, as if he'd had someone in mind. Perhaps he was too lax, but he made a split decision. "Ignis," he began, more firm than he had been this whole conversation, "was there someone else you and the counsel had expected to be chosen instead of me?"

Ignis was good. Not a hint of hesitation or a pause. "There were several prospects," he replied evenly. 

Nyx thought over his next words more carefully. Then, slowly, he said, "if... There was a candidate you have preferred, I'd like to know them." Ignis looked about to object, but he pressed on. "If there's someone you think would have been better for this position, I'd like," he hesitated, "I'd like to see them for myself. I might learn a thing or two from them." He shrugged, "see if there's a way I might be able to meet your standards a bit better."

"It's not  _ my  _ standards you need to fill, your highness." Colder. Yeah, he was closing himself off. 

Nyx had had enough of it. "You clearly don't like me." Ignis actually seemed taken aback. He looked ready to counter, but Nyx again continued on despite that. "Whoever you were hoping to be chosen clearly wasn't," he looked Ignis in the eyes, and for once saw a flicker of something there, "but  _ I  _ was chosen instead. So of there's something I'm missing, something, anything I could be doing better, I want to know." 

He didn't know the younger man well enough to discern the look which crossed his face, momentary as it was, but he wouldn't back down. "I can  _ feel _ the disapproval. From you, from Gladiolus, from the counsel--" he felt himself growing passionate, and thankfully had the presence to keep himself somewhat in check, keeping his voice from rising at least, "I'd like to know who I was up against. I'd like to know what I'm lacking that everyone but the King himself seemed to feel made him a better option." He all but glared at his Adviser, "I'm the Chosen Heir, and in order to fulfill that role, I need to know what these people are thinking. If I'm lacking in something--" he cut himself off, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, then let it out. He was starting to go in circles. 

"It's not that your lacking in any way," Ignis responded steadily, for once leaving things without the title. "Quite the contrary," he said it in a way that almost made Nyx feel he meant it. "While a bit awkward, you've taken to the diplomatic aspect quite well. No one expects you to be a natural at this, especially since you didn't grow up at court," he paused a moment, then added, "I believe that's part of why you were Chosen. You have a broader perspective than growing up in these halls allows for." Nyx nodded, eyeing the wide, open, haunting space. All this time and they were  _ still _ walking. 

"But that's not all," Ignis continued. "Gladiolus has reported that you're already exceptionally skilled with the Arminger, skilled as a warrior in general." Nyx felt that was going a bit far. He was good with daggers and other smaller weapons. The longer weapons were still taking some getting used to. It was all he could do to not take a beating from Gladiolus's great sword every time they sparred. 

"And you are sincere. Genuine and passionate, traits that King Regis sees in the highest regard. And I quite agree." He hesitated again, then continued, "one of the more serious candidates was of a noble Lucian line. A masterful diplomatic, and an even better swordsman. The eldest son of one of our best generals, in fact." 

"So why not him," Nyx asked, genuinely curious. That sounded like a way better prospect to him. 

Ignis openly grimaced, "he's... Not known for his... Compassion," he replied gently. 

"Ah," Nyx said, opening his mouth to add,  _ so he's a spoiled brat _ , but withheld. Ignis gave him a rare slight smile at the courtesy. "So who was it?" He asked instead.

"Hm?"

"The one you were hoping would be chosen," Nyx pressed. 

He didn't see it so much as felt Ignis's walls close on him. Firm and heavy like the doors to the throne room. He took a few seconds to answer. "With all due respect, your highness," there he goes again, "I don't believe that would be appropriate of me to say."

"And if I don't care if it's appropriate?"

Ignis paused again, teeth clicking just audibly. "If you will, I'd  _ prefer _ to refrain, your majesty."

And so that was that, Nyx thought. "Of course," he replied quietly. 

* * *

He had been _told_ that Libertus and Crowe were in the city. But he hadn't been told they'd be _in his quarters_ when he got back. 

"Nyx!" Crowe strode forward, probably way too casual about the way she slugged him in the arm. 

Libertus just grinned, which faltered as he saw Ignis, the latter giving him a curt nod. Ignis stood stiffly at attention. "At your leave, your highness."

Nyx nodded, barely able to keep presentable, feeling awkward with the mash of groups-- his friends and his crownsguard. "Thank you," he left it at that, hesitating, not quite sure what to say. 

But Ignis only nodded again, taking his leave. "There are guards posted as per usual,"  _ Just letting you know there are ears outside.  _ He wasn't sure if it was courteous or backhanded. But honestly? He didn't care. 

Libertus snorted. "Stick up his ass," he muttered. 

Nyx smiled along, but he felt a bit odd. He wouldn't contradict that sentiment by any means. In fact, it was a fairly common joke around the citadel apparently, giving him their condolences that Ignis-- studious, stiff Ignis-- was his Adviser. And while he'd originally heard it from the Glaives-- Luche, who had been one of the first to escort him in, had been particularly friendly-- it wasn't just them. Regular crownsguard, random assistants, even a couple counselors who weren't being hostile toward him. Still, after that exchange they'd just had... 

"That not right?" Libertus asked, as usual, able to read him like an open book. 

Nyx shrugged, "I mean, he is uptight."

They waited a moment. "But..." Crowe encouraged, seating herself across from Libertus, kicking her feet up on a low table the chairs were set around. 

Nyx shrugged, "he seems like a good guy," and he realized he meant it. For all the cold shoulder Nyx had gotten, he hadn't been an asshole about any of it. In fact, the more he thought about it, Ignis's reservations seemed to have nothing to do with his upbringing or place of birth. Which, actually, he'd said. Sort of. When he'd explained how these two had even gotten here. Still... "It's just kinda complicated," he said, grimacing. 

Crowe snorted, "ya get called upon to be the friggen  _ Chosen Heir _ and you expected shit to  _ not  _ 'be complicated'?" 

He laughed by way of a huff, but he still felt tense. It was the first time someone outside his crownsguard and his majesty had said it. Chosen Heir. 

Libertus noticed his shift in moods and shared a glance with Crowe. Not good, he thought. Nyx was charming and mysterious and all that with other people, but Libertus had known him long enough to know that most of his broody "mystique" was really just a shitload of overanalyzing, which usually lead to Nyx being more closed off, alone with his thoughts. Galahd hadn't seen a ton of action in whatever tensions lay between the rest of Lucis and-- well, wherever. Libertus didn't really bother keeping up as it was all pretty irrelevant to them-- but growing up in a town much more lax about things like laws... there were some things he deemed were just unavoidable. Small town stuff. Someone going missing, someone ending up dead in an alleyway. Things you didn't talk about. Things everyone knew, and knew not to mention. 

They'd seen it all together. 

And he'd seen this. Libertus stretched pointedly, the motion just enough to get Nyx's attention without startling him out of his thoughts. "So, when do you think they'll let you out of the gilded cage?" 

Nyx snorted, but went quiet again for a moment, staring off into space before answering, "probably not for awhile." His tone had been even, normal. But Libertus didn't need to hear it to see the clouds around Nyx's head. He was losing him. 

So he switched tactics. "Things really been that hard around here?" He would have added some quip about being fed grapes while lounging in his grande quarters-- which was by no means an overstatement, this room and the next he could see through an open door were big as their apartment on their own. 

"It's... Not really that," Nyx said. Crowe opened her mouth to push, but stopped at a glance from Libertus. Nyx's tone had implied he was thinking about how to word things, and he'd probably clam up if interrupted. He was right, as Nyx-- missing the exchange entirely, which was odd in of itself-- continued, "there's something more going on here." 

There was another pause, but Libertus waited. Nyx got overly contemplative like this sometimes. Sure enough, "there's other candidates, and it sounds like they were a lot more popular with the counsel than I was..."

After a few moments, Libertus realized he wasn't gonna say more, but let Crowe do the talking. "So? It's not a popularity contest. It's about who the King chose, and he chose you." She seemed as though she was going to say,  _ so what's the problem _ but she didn't need to. After a brief pause, she added, "you don't think... None of em are disgruntled enough..."

Nyx's eyes widened and he turned to her, "what? To have me taken out or something? No way--" but he stopped, as if actually considering this for the first time. 

"What were you thinking?" Libertus asked quickly. He didn't need more shit to worry about right now, though honestly, that's where his mind had gone to too. 

Nyx reluctantly let go of that train of thought, and mindlessly spoke, "I think there's someone in particular my Adviser and Shield were rooting for, but..."

"But he didn't make the cut," Libertus supplied. 

"Yeah," Nyx said, easing into their usual pace. This was the best way of helping Nyx through these funks, honestly. Get a rhythm going, get him talking, but get his mind off of "saying it right," and just speaking. It was easier and generally more helpful to let him rant in circles until he could piece his thoughts back together, rather than the internal pacing, thoughts like caged animals, restless. 

"They acting weird about it?" Libertus asked. 

"No. Well, sorta," Nyx replied, "it feels like they assumed their pick was a done deal, and are now belatedly having to switch gears." He shrugged, "I don't think they dislike me. Ignis practically said as much, and Gladiolus-- my Shield--" Six that felt weird to say-- "seems like the type who would just say something like that to my face." Without meaning to, he rattled on, "he's diplomatic, of course, in a way. But he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who stays silent on the bullshit. Tells it to you straight, when he can, you know?" 

They only nodded, letting him go on on his probably unconscious observations. About how Ignis seemed to trust Regis, and was really just adjusting, but would be fine after some ice breaking. About how Gladiolus seemed pretty cool actually, about how honorable and honest he was, or at least seemed to be-- though Nyx was good at gleaning these things, even from initial interactions. He spiraled into more hunches than backable accounts, such as the longer term Glaives being much more friendly with him it seemed, especially the Galahdan ones and how he knew he was already feeding into the politics without meaning to, about feeling still so blind to everything, but how there was only so much he could learn so quickly-- and that, too, with the Arminger, which he had to explain. 

All in all, they talked well into the night. Luckily, the guards didn't ask them to leave or anything, even as the house went from double digits back to singular. 

What they didn't know was that the guards  _ were _ rather anxious to have these other unknowns away from their charge, only Ignis's direct orders having stopped them. Of course Ignis had checked into each of them thoroughly, and that was enough for Regis. But Nyx needn't worry about things like that. This was Ignis, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo yeah! au where there is "tension" between niflheim and lucis but nowhere near as serious as canon. kinda just vaguely "not particularly positive" relations, really. 
> 
> Also, I have been having a hard time with how I want to portray the development between specs & nyx and so I know this was cheap but it was the best I could do for now so forgive/pls bear with me!! 
> 
> tysm for everyone reading this far love y'all lots.


	8. Noctis | Job

Noctis wasn't actually all that special, at least so far as looks. Oh sure, he was attractive. But he wasn't particularly tall or built. His features weren't particularly sharp or defined. He blended easily into a crowd. And days like this, _Celo_ was particularly pleased with this.

Insomnia was a sprawling, writhing mass of concrete and steel, teeming with people. Maps weren't useless per se, but the levels and layers were a convoluted tale of time. The upper, inner layers were more orderly, but as one progress outward and downward, things got ever more chaotic. Snaking little one ways would open up to wide intersections and plazas, just shy of being truly subterranean by a sliver of sky poking out through the freeways and levels above. 

This was the Insomnia the Prince would never have seen. One he would have always been shielded from in the pampered halls of the Citadel. He shivered just thinking about the cold, harsh architecture. He'd take the dirtied, scuffed underside almost any day. Celo would, anyway. 

He made his way to a certain convenience store. The franchisee had made good for themselves in their early days, but had always kept a healthy dose of paranoia for the establishment at large. In short, they had enough business to keep the legal powers happy, and enough side profit to keep the less savory elements happy too. 

The cashier this afternoon recognized Celo at this point, but still insisted on the code phrase. Celo thought of him as a kid, skiddish and nervous as he was, but he had to be a few years older than him, probably struggling through college, if he'd taken the further education route at all. Still, Celo passed through without a hitch, slipping into the back as though he were just another worker getting ready for his shift. In a way, he was. 

Part of what made navigating the city such a headache was that, though there were definitely levels, it was sometimes hard to know where one ended and one began. Sure enough, he slipped out the service entrance into a long service road. In a more sane city, that might have meant a narrow alleyway, just big enough for two cars scraping by. In Insomnia, this area at least, it meant a whole covered underpass. The building had been in the shade of part of that road, but here he was in a full tunnel. 

Alone save for the streetlight overhead, he started walking. Running or warping would have sounded odd, in case someone was listening. He got to another door, made sure no one was looking, and tried the handle. It screeched like every other rust fucked entrance down here, but didn't budge. It didn't need to. Having covered his bases, he warped. 

Celo had found he could warp to anything he threw. That wasn't a limitation, it was just a focus. He could heal himself and others, but needed to focus that power into something-- usually an energy drink. But again, it wasn't a limitation of the power, but of his own mind. He'd long since gotten over it. Still, warping did magically require an anchor. In this case, it was a a road reflector that had come loose a few years back-- from the roadway he'd just left, actually. Discarded at the entrance of the tunnel as it ascended back up to the next level. 

He crouched. This was the worst part. The tunnel arched up enough to not give a clear view of the entrance. Warping was faster, but it came with some risk if he was seen. He could generally rely on the fact that not every person of magically capability was conscripted, and the slums sense of unity to keep those who laid low hidden, but Celo didn't like taking chances. 

He was lucky. Not a soul in sight. With the smallest quirk of his lip, he reimbued the discarded reflector with magic and dropped it again. He'd use it later for a quick exit if it was needed. With that, he set off for the real job tonight. 

* * *

Spectral spots of darkness foreshadowed his arrival, a mystic snowfall before the storm of knives. With a grunt, the first of the two guards fell to a quick stab to the throat. Celo rolled from his warp, spinning the knife he'd used to move, and slashing the other guards throat in one smooth motion. His momentum kept him turning, and as the bodies dropped, he kept low, immediately stalking away from the twin thumps. 

No one else was in the vicinity. Not yet. They would be in mere moments. Following the shadows on padded feet, once again blessing the contact he'd made of an old, progressive nanny who didn't bat an eye at a request for fitted slippers. He'd taken them elsewhere to get to bottoms repadded for better grip. It didn't help protect his feet much from, say, rocks, but it sure as hell kept him silent. 

His hair was pulled back in a simple net, no loose strands to turn to evidence. His clothes were mostly form fitting, less flapping that way. The silence was nice. The damn thigh chaffing though? Ass. He'd just bought these pants-- more leggings than anything-- and they were already wearing. Making a note to put in yet another request, he held his breath. Three... Two... One...

... And? 

... _There_. 

A few seconds later than expected, a cry erupted from the next roaming shift of guards. They must've been going at a more leisurely pace than expected. _Sloppy_ Celo thought. But it was well enough. 

He made enough noise as he escaped, taking care to make a little extra noise. With any luck, he'd keep them guessing on just how many attackers there were without slowing. He was here to be discovered, not caught. 

Tensions had been growing between the group who had been exporting Vanilla and one of their main rivals. The second group had been making pushes into the first's territory for a few years now, with little success. That group, however, was also known to have or hire out people with magical capabilities. It was weaker than those with direct blessing from the Royal line, but it was still enough to grant things like invisibility and barriers. 

Just to make the ruse clearer, he did go invisible, scaling a wall the old fashioned way, getting sloppier about how much noise he was making, then took out part of the surveillance system. Specifically, the heat sensors specifically to combat those who could become invisible. Usually, the expense wouldn't be bothered with. But Celo had known this group was actually rather well off, as were the stated rivals. 

That done, he used his vantage to listen. A small explosion, then another, then one more for good measure. He, unlike those guards, was right on schedule. Alternating between warping and skulking, he made his way to his target. 

In another life, in the life Noctis's friends wanted for him, the concept of lock picking might have crossed his mind, but that would have been it. Why would a Prince need to pick locks? He wouldn't, he'd probably always have the keys. _Or_ _Gladio to just kick the doors down,_ Noctis thought wryly. Which was sloppy, and he immediately felt the consequences. He felt his hands slip, Noctis becoming suddenly self conscious about what Ignis might say at the prospect of Noctis, who he considered the true Heir, _picking locks_. With a small clatter, one of his picks hit the floor and Celo cursed himself. 

Taking control of himself again, distancing himself once more, Celo retrieved the pick in a smooth motion and had the door open a few seconds later. 

Light on his feet, he searched, carefully but quickly rifling through the room. He stepped carefully, glancing over promising papers and opening drawers, checking for loose floorboards or false backs. He was rewarded with the group's safe beneath his searching feet, a forged certification for their cover business where he left it on the desk. But it was in a drawer, a false back, he found what he wanted. 

The book was compact and we'll worn, but Celo knew a ledger when he saw one. He flipped it open, scanning through the more recent transactions. He found what he wanted. He'd see how far back this went later. He pocketed it, worked open the safe. It took a few precious minutes, but once it was opened, he immediately saw what he was looking for. A small horde of more vials of Vanilla. He didn't take those. He was here to send a message, not give himself away. But now, he knew he had a potential seller, and that's what mattered. 

He relocked the safe, reset anything he'd moved, made sure the drawers were opened just so as they had been, then slipped out. The rest was a walk in the park. 

* * *

Gladio picked him up from his cover job. The Crown-- well, his dad-- knew it was a front. Weskham had returned to Insomnia when Noct had been born and continued his restaurant business there. He'd been only too accommodating when Noctis had started searching for a job where he could keep his head low. Weskham also could be trusted to keep Noct safe-- no need for someone to guard him. 

Weskham however also knew the importance of secrecy, the collecting as well of the keeping of secrets. Noctis had a back of house admin position and, as someone close to the proprietor, could be called in for long, odd hours. Noct blessed him for a seemingly endless supply of excuses, on top of his discretion of course. Weskham wasn't especially known for his upright upholding of the law. 

He did actually work for Weskham, though. And so he was actually tired and brainfried when Gladio pulled up. The Regalia was too recognizable, but Noct and Prom had scrounged the money themselves for a set of wheels. She wasn't pretty but she was city made and only took three tries to start even on the coldest Insomnia snowdays. That's all that mattered. 

He slid into the passenger's seat, waving lamely to Weskham as they drove off. He leaned back, hoping to catch a nap on the ride home. "Long day?" Gladio asked. 

"Yeah," Noct said simply, resting a hand, palm up, on the center console. 

Gladio took it with a fond, unseen smile. 


End file.
